


You Don't Know I'm No Good

by Rinzler



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinzler/pseuds/Rinzler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something off about Barry. Something wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Know I'm No Good

“Mmm, Leonard,” Barry sighs blissfully. “God, don’t stop, please-”

Len groans and rocks forward again, grinding hard against Barry, the rough fabric of their jeans providing almost too much friction. Barry gasps sharply and Len takes the opportunity to claim his lips in a kiss, hot and wet and dirty beyond belief.

The safehouse they’re in is one of the older ones, in a less-respectable part of town. Dim yellow light filters through the leaded glass windowpanes, casting strange shadows across their faces and bodies, entwined in a dark corner.

Barry shifts up, putting his weight on his toes and leaning closer, deepening their kiss. His legs are thrown precariously over Len’s, one over his hip and the other hooked behind Len’s knee, pressing them close together. Len breaks their kiss and breathes in, and feels Barry’s chest rising and falling too. His breathing is slower than it usually is, but not enough to make Len worry. After all, his baseline is Barry's breathing patterns during or just after a fight. He's never been this close to him without the threat of violence before. Barry is probably just a little tired after a long day.

“God, Leonard,” Barry says, voice wrecked. He sounds strangely frustrated. “Can you hurry up?”

“In a rush, Barry?” Len says. Barry shrugs sheepishly.

“I’m just a little tired, I guess. I’d hate to fall asleep on you,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh.

A forgotten corner of Len’s mind notices how strained Barry’s laugh seems. It’s still his voice, but the pattern is different, somehow off-beat. The fact that Barry is calling him by his full name is a little weird too, especially because Len has previously threatened to start calling him ‘Bartholomew’ if he does. He usually also calls Len 'Snart' or 'Cold.'

Then Barry does something with his hips that makes Len’s brain short-circuit, and he’s never been more grateful for a wall to lean against while he gets his breathing under control.

“Come on,” Barry demands. “Are we gonna do this or what?”

“Someone needs to chill,” Len says. He takes his hands off the wall and places them on Barry’s hips, one hand tracing the waistband of his jeans while he slides the other under Barry’s shirt until it’s resting above his heart. He loves the beat of Barry’s heart, the reassuring thrum of it like a hummingbird, too fast to count. He's only felt it once before, but it’s nothing like the commonplace _thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud_ of Len’s heart.

Except it is.

Len freezes, going stock-still, hand still resting over Barry’s heart. It feels as though someone has just dropped a handful of ice down the back of his shirt, the feeling trickling down and pooling at the base of his spine.

Barry’s heart beats on, but it’s slow. Too slow for a speedster. Too slow for him to be alive. To slow for him to be…for him to be…

Len shoves Barry off of him and into the wall, slamming his head back with a sharp crack. Barry shouts in pain and collapses to the floor in a crumpled heap. Len doesn’t waste time, lunging sideways to grab his cold gun off the entryway table and charge it up. A reassuring mechanical whirring sounds fills the air as Len aims the gun at Barry, still sprawled out on the floor.

Barry grunts, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his head. “What the fuck, Leonard?” He says. He sounds angry. Unbelievably angry. And yet…

“Look at me,” Len says, trying to slip into his Cold persona, forcing his voice down an octave, over-enunciating his consonants and drawling the vowels. Barry doesn’t move. “Look at me!” He roars.

Barry looks up.

And yet…and yet…

Len pulls the trigger.

White flame bursts free, roaring towards the darkened corner. It hits the man sitting there directly in the chest, crackling and crunching, spreading across his skin and the wall behind him. The man shrieks and it’s an unearthly sound, hollow and violent. Len feels it ringing in his bones.

He grits his teeth and holds down the trigger. The jet of pure cold doesn’t stop emanating from the gun, streaming forth unrelentingly. The man’s screams begin to taper off, turning into a high-pitched whine as the cold spreads to his lungs and freezes them into chunks of ice.

When the cold gun gives a warning beep, signalling low charge, Len releases the trigger and lowers the gun. The sudden absence of the noise of it firing plunges the safehouse into icy silence.

Len puts the gun down.

He walks towards the man in the corner.

The cold gun has punched a hole through his chest, a massive icicle frosted over where his heart used to be. Sheets of ice cover the man’s torso, arms, and upper legs, holding him in place. Frost has crept along to cover the rest, in jagged patterns that look like cracks in a sheet of glass. He’s still, so still, and cold. So cold.

Len crouches down and reaches forward slowly. The man’s eyes have fallen closed in the throes of death, but luckily they’re not frozen shut. Len carefully pinches the man’s upper left eyelid between his thumb and forefinger and pulls it upward.

A yellow, slit-pupiled gaze meets his. These are not Barry’s eyes.

Len lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding before standing up and backing away carefully. He wraps a hand around his cold gun again, the weight a comforting pull on his shaky, shock-stunned body. Then he reaches for the phone in his pocket, a cheap burner he got from a corner store, and hits speed dial #3.

The phone rings for a moment before it picks up. There’s a voice on the other end, tired and wary. “Hello?”

“Hello, Flash,” Len says. “We have a problem.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been tagged as non-con because the person Len gets intimate with is not Barry, it's a shape-shifter. Len has consented to kissing and touching Barry, not anyone else. Due to that deception, the tags are necessary.


End file.
